Romeo and Juliet
by TheGirlWhoRemembers
Summary: In a world where the King's Guardians are at war with the mysterious Guild, a band of thieves and assassins, this is the story of a boy and a girl. This is a story of their struggle as their causes tear them apart. This is the story of Romeo and Juliet.
1. Prologue

AN: This is my take on Romeo and Juliet. It's not Shakespeare, but I wanted to give it a new dimension. Please don't crucify me!

* * *

><p>The first time he sees her, he is protecting the Prince of the Kingdom. He is disguised as the simple manservant of young Prince Escales. The Prince is a target for assassination, mostly by trained assassins from the mysterious Guild, hired hands to do the dirty work.<p>

Why would he be? The Prince is royalty. His father rules a large Kingdom, powerful and wealthy. He is the sole heir to the throne. If he dies, it will be easy to steal power from his ageing father.

That is why he is here. That is his job, protect the Prince. Easy as that. He is a Guardian. They fight for what is good and just. They keep the peace. Protecting the peace means protecting the King and his heirs, protecting the people and keeping the darkness from the land. This is what he was trained from childhood for; this is his duty, his sole purpose in life. He knows no else. He is a master of disguise, of covert arts, of moving and seeing without being heard or seen. He is skilled with the blade, the knife and the bow. He can ride like he was born in the saddle and he knows of poisons and antidotes. This, any Guardian can do. But he can do it better than any other, so they say.

Yet, a great Guardian is now packing the Prince's clothes, like the simple servant he wears the clothes of. Only the Prince knows his identity, the other servants believe him one of them. But if he had not been packing, he would have failed his duty.

There is a knock at the door of the Prince's rooms. A young female servant of the castle steps in, bearing a goblet of wine. She smiles at him, brightly, innocently, and sets the goblet down. He is of a higher rank than she, in the servant pecking order. He will bring the wine to the Prince. She, instead, gathers the basket of laundry lying next to him, kneeling down to gather a tunic that has fallen from the mound. As she stands to leave, she accidentally stands on the hem of her skirt and stumbles. Quickly, he is at her side and helps her up. She smiles her thanks again, shyly this time.

The girl leaves. The door swings shut behind her. He brings the wine to the Prince and returns to packing. Some time passes, perhaps half a candle mark. He hears the Prince gag. He rushes into the room, uninvited. The Prince has nearly passed out.

_Poison. There must have been poison in the wine. The wine would have been tested by a food tester when it entered the antechamber of the Prince's quarters, so the only way that..._

_The girl. It was her. She somehow slipped the poison into the wine without me noticing. Impossible. But somehow she did it. She is good. She is a trained assassin, with the same skill as me. That I'm sure of. She could not be a servant, bribed to poison him, I'd have noticed. No, only a trained professional can slip under my guard, and only a good one at that._

Those thoughts are quickly wiped from his mind. The Prince is dying and he needs to do something about it. He strives to remember the antidotes he has been taught.

Meanwhile, a girl in servant's clothes delivers a basket of laundry to the washerwomen and disappears, not seen again.

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><p>Disclaimer: I'm not Shakespeare. What did you think?<p> 


	2. Act One

AN: As of today, this story's category has been changed from _Shakespeare _to _Romeo and Juliet._

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><p>'Good afternoon, Romeo. It is very good to see you back in one piece. How was the mission?'<p>

A studious, solemn young man, of his own age, greets him with a slight smile. The other man beside him, mischievous and grinning, a maverick, is not so restrained, slapping him hard on the back.

'Ben, I told you! It seems young Romeo here nearly had the Prince poisoned while he was guarding him! Great job, by the way, Romeo, you give us all a good name!'

Benvolio lets out a sigh and adopts the weary expression he often uses when talking to Mercutio, his child-like companion.

'I was merely being polite, Mercutio. You also forget that he did save the Prince, after all. May I also request you stop using that ridiculous shortened form of my name?'

As Mercutio opens his mouth to retort, Romeo raises a hand to cease his friends' bickering. It has been a long, tough mission and he does not want to think about it. Thankfully, they both have enough tact to cease their banter.

'Have you received details of our next assignment yet?'

Romeo shakes his head, unsurprised; Benvolio is always in the know of what they are to do next. Strangely, it seems Mercutio is also very well informed.

'It looks like we're going to a ball!'

'We are there to provide protection, not to enjoy ourselves.'

But even Benvolio is smiling, and his tone indicates he does not really mean what he says. After all, they are young men, Guardians though they are, and they do like a good time, even serious Benvolio.

Mercutio elbows Romeo, none too gently, in the ribs.

'Well, that's not why Romeo's going to be looking forward to the celebration, is it? I heard that Lady Rosaline's attending!'

Romeo sighs and Benvolio's face remains passive, but there is a smile in his eyes. Rosaline is a young noble lady, whom Romeo's friends believe he harbours a secret love for. True, he feels something for her, but love? He is not quite sure. But that doesn't stop him feeling _something_, she is a great beauty, with long, golden hair...Of course, they all know that nothing can happen, she is a noble and he, though a Guardian, is lowly born.

But even so, he is eager for the celebration to come, true, he must attend to protect and guard, but that is more a formality than anything, there will be many Guardians present, and he is certain that he can let his hair down, so to speak.

He doesn't know what's coming.

* * *

><p>Romeo is at the ball, which so happens to be a masquerade, when it happens.<p>

The Guardian in him is telling him that this is a dangerous situation; there is so much opportunity for disguise at a masquerade. The youth in him is telling him that this is a good time to chance upon a dance with Rosaline.

_She's not going to know who I am. Class distinctions don't matter here; it might be the only chance I ever get..._

He decides to search for her, as well as avoid Mercutio, who is doubtlessly helping himself to wine, and Benvolio, who is doubtlessly endeavouring to keep their friend out of trouble. He does not want their teasing, or rather, Mercutio's teasing and Benvolio's meaningful looks. But he is only halfway across the room when a girl catches his eye.

She is dressed in a simple dress, when asked later he will say it was green, but what really captures him is the silver half-mask she wears. It is elegant, with a strange pattern he has never seen anywhere before. It reminds him of a river, the way it ebbs and flows, strong and elegant. He gathers his courage, Rosaline forgotten, and approaches her.

He makes a slight bow.

'May I have this dance, my lady?'

She curtseys back.

'Of course, my lord.'

The minstrels strike up a new tune and they spin around the floor among the dancers, a sea of colour and fabric. She is graceful and light on her feet. All too soon, the dance ends, she curtseys, he bows and they part, but not before she whispers into his ear.

'In the gardens, when the minstrels play the last dance.'

He nods, and she sweeps away from him and vanishes.

* * *

><p>Now, he is no longer intent on enjoying the evening. He just wants it to end as soon as possible. He would have it that the next dance was the last dance. Time inches forward and the minstrels strike up the last tune. He slips out, unseen, into the garden, and climbs into a tree to wait. It's a perfect vantage point, and no one shall see him there.<p>

_Where is she? She hasn't had second thoughts, has she? I don't know what I'd do if she has._

She does not come.

It is traditional, after the last dance is played, for the King to enter the gardens to farewell his guests. But he is an elderly man now, so he is brought out on his palanquin by the bearers, as the guests fan out after him. Romeo remains in his tree, gazing at the full moon.

As the King begins to speak, he sees a shadowy figure at a balcony, facing the gardens. His senses are on alert, and his instincts tell him danger. The figure raises their arms, and he sees a bow. He knows who the target is. In desperation, he pulls his throwing knife from its scabbard and throws.

It strikes the stones beside the figure, as was his intention, startling it. He then quickly climbs into the next tree, and leaps for the balcony's edge. The figure still searches for the source of the noise, and finds it. Up close, he sees the figure is female. He draws his sword and strikes.

She dodges, just in time. With a shock, he finds he recognises the patterning of her mask.

_But she asked me to meet her in the gardens...I understand her plan. I would have been distracted, searching for her in the crowd of people, not watching for potential danger. I guess she didn't count on me climbing a tree._

She takes advantage of his distraction, and presses forward, cornering him. He does the only thing that comes to mind, and tugs at her mask, pulling it loose, and it falls around her neck. She is temporarily stunned. So is he. She is the servant girl, the girl who poisoned the Prince. She recovers first, and lashes out with her sabre at him.

It's only a glancing wound to the calf, but it draws blood immediately. She is good. A wound to the leg will stop a man, incapacitate him. It is quicker than killing, and she makes good her escape, vanishing into the night. The other Guardians have noticed the skirmish on the balcony, but are too late to catch her. He curses her, that siren.

_Damn it! Montague will have my head for this._

But the next day, lying in the infirmary, he receives a mysterious parcel. A red tulip, accompanied by the silver mask and a single sheet of paper.

_Romeo,_

_I'm sorry I didn't keep our appointment. Perhaps next time, when your leg heals. I'm sorry for that too; I know it hurts a lot._

_Love,_

_The Girl Who Best You with the Sabre_

How does she know his name? He hates to admit it, but she's got pluck, spirit, and daring, for sure, as well as plenty of cheek.


	3. Act Two

It is when he is fully recovered, and the tulip long withered, that he receives his next mission.

He is summoned to Montague's office. No one is quite sure who he is. He is greatly skilled, but he is much older now, he is not as young as he used to be. He mostly administers and leads the Guardians, with the wisdom that comes with age and experience. No one knows his true name. Montague is the only name he is ever addressed by.

He makes a slight bow.

'You summoned me, sir?'

'Yes, young Romeo. Tell me, what do you remember of the Guild assassin who wounded you?'

'A fair amount, sir.'

_A fair amount? Are you jesting yourself? You know everything about her you possibly could, remember every part-_

He silences the voices in his head. They are a distraction, nothing more.

'Would you be able to track her?'

'It will be difficult, sir, but I should be capable.'

'Then do so. You will gain her trust, tell her that we no longer rely on you as you failed to deduce her real purpose and stop her. Then, when you have gleaned all the knowledge from her you can, you will kill her.'

'Surely, sir, I have explained...'

Montague allows himself a smile. There is a slight wistful, faraway look in his eyes. This is unusual for the usually expressionless Guardian leader.

'Romeo, son, I do not blame you. She is very skilled. But do not fail again, do not allow yourself to be distracted.'

'I understand, sir. It will be done.'

Romeo turns to leave. Montague speaks once more.

'You have until the summer solstice.'

The autumn equinox is in a week and a couple days. He has nine months. That will have to do.

* * *

><p>It takes him a month to find her for the first time. She is very, very good. She is hidden in a forest, a distant, isolated forest, and the young Guardian must glean information from poor villagers and stuck-up lords alike. Cautiously, he approaches the clearing with a small wooden cottage that a woodcutter told him is inhabited by a young woman, all on her own.<p>

As he steps into the open, he is greeted by a voice, calm and menacing.

'Take one more step, and I'll put an arrow through your heart.'

He shrugs and replies.

'If you'd wanted to kill me, you could have done so already.'

An arrow flies at him by way of reply. He sidesteps it with ease, having already sought out her position, in a tree, before exposing himself.

'Is that the best you can do?'

Quick as a flash, he raises his own bow and fires an arrow off into her tree, just missing her and hitting a knot to her left. She drops out of it, unsettled by the shot, and lands in a crouch on the ground, firing off a returning taunt.

'If I was shooting to kill, I would have killed you already. And you missed.'

He opens his mouth to reply, but she quickly runs into the cover of the trees, disappearing into the forest.

_Damn, she's probably got a horse back there. I won't catch her today._

* * *

><p>It is four days later, at sunset, when he finds her again. This time, it's at a waterfall, deep inside the woods. He approaches silently, until he is only paces behind her. She does not appear to notice.<p>

'I wasn't aiming for you.'

She spins around, not startled, but composed. With a flick of her wrist, a knife embeds itself into the tree only a hand span to his right.

'And I wasn't aiming for you.'

She seizes her bow and arrow, and fires off two rapid volleys, one after the other, hitting the ends of his cloak, flowing in the breeze, and pinning him to the trees behind, pulling his cloak tight around his neck.

She flees again.

_Damn her, again!_

By the time he works his way free, she is long gone and the sun long set. He resigns himself to camping here overnight and trying to make up the ground in the morning. Tracking her through the night is dangerous and difficult, too much so. He has gained one thing from today's meeting, though. Her knife is still trapped in the tree. He extracts it carefully and examines it by the light of his fire.

It is finely wrought, he can see, of the best quality. It is perhaps more decorative and less utilitarian than what he favours, not perfectly practical. The same pattern decorates it as her silver mask. It is not what he would think a professional like her would select. There is an interesting inscription on the hilt.

_Juliet, from Paris_

So that is her name. Juliet. But who is Paris? Father, brother, teacher, lover? He does not think him kin, all Guardians are orphans, and Guild members likely too. Then who is he? The inscription raises more questions than answers.

* * *

><p>It takes him another two weeks to find Juliet again. It is on a sheer cliff, overlooking a broad river valley. He smirks. Of all spots, why would she pick here? There is no way to escape. She isn't expecting him, then. She's just standing on the edge of the cliff, unarmed, her horse tethered too far away for her to reach in time.<p>

But it is Romeo who is not careful. Of late, he has discarded his cloak, determined not to present her with another chance to pin him to a tree. Poor choice. Or perhaps she has been playing with him all along. He is much easier to see without his cloak to hide him in shadow. She has seen him coming for the past couple days now, as he wound his way across the river valley below.

He triggers a trap as he sneaks forward, and is unceremoniously pulled upside down by his ankle. She hears his cry and turns, a small smile on her face as she sees his present predicament.

'Why are you following me?'

She's very straight to the point.

'I want to talk to you.'

Juliet struggles to hide her surprise. It's there, for a moment, a flicker across her face.

'Why?'

He does his best to shrug from his awkward position.

'My masters blame me for allowing you to almost succeed. They believe that I have failed them.'

The unspoken meaning is clear. They no longer trust him.

'Then both our masters are too harsh. Mine have exiled me for failing to kill the King.'

'Perhaps we are not so different after all.'

She leans close to him, her face harsh.

'We are very different, Guardian, very different.'

She cuts the rope and he falls to the ground in an unceremonious heap. She ties him securely to a nearby tree and walks off to her tent. He cannot help but make one last comment.

'Who's Paris?'

The only reply is a pebble, thrown at his head, which hits its mark. He winces in pain.

_Sadist. First my calf, now this..._

* * *

><p>He works his way out of the bonds overnight. Juliet was very careless and forgetful to leave his weapons on him. And he thought she was a professional.<p>

He is standing outside her tent, arrow on the bowstring, pulled back to half draw, when she wakes at dawn. He is thrown off when she shows no sign of surprise.

'I thought you might try something like this.'

He keeps his composure.

'You shouldn't have left my weapons on me. I could kill you now.'

'And you won't. You've had plenty of opportunity to do so, and you haven't, so you won't now.'

'You've had plenty of chances to kill me. I'm still here. How do you know I haven't been lulling you into a false sense of security?'

'People like you don't waste chances. One time, sure, it's a trick. Two times, it's a good trick. Three times, I'll buy it. More times than that? You don't want to kill me.'

'Then you don't either. As you said, people like us don't waste chances. We are more alike than we think.'

There is silence. His heart pounds.

_I've gone too far, haven't I? She'll shoot me now, surely, or stab me through the heart..._

Then, reluctantly, softly, she replies.

'You are right, Romeo. You are right. I do not like it, but you are right.'

That is the first time she has said his name.


	4. Act Three

They fall into a pattern. It is not an easy pattern, but it is one nonetheless. They have reached an unspoken truce.

They return to the clearing with the cabin. He pitches his tent on the far side. If they train in weaponry, they travel to another clearing to do so. They do not practice together. Romeo disappears once a week to contact his man, in a secret location they have set up. Juliet does not follow him. Similarly, when messages arrive by pigeon from her masters, he does not attempt to read them. Many would find this strange, how they live in such close proximity, yet avoid all contact. But it is what is comfortable for them, and this is the arrangement they have come to.

But it must be broken eventually. One night, she comes to him, bearing a pot of stew, and begins to ladle it out into two bowls. He watches her like a hawk, but declines when she offers a bowl to him. Old habits die hard.

She eats in silence for a moment, not offended in the slightest. She would do the same in his position. Then she breaks it.

'Why do you serve the King?'

He shakes his head.

'I do not serve the King. I serve as a Guardian. We are not the King's personal army, we fight for what is good and just.'

Juliet gives an unladylike snort of derision.

'Everyone knows you are practically in his pocket. Perhaps that's not what you started out as, but over time, it has changed. You are at his beck and call now.'

He is silent for a moment. Perhaps she is right. Sometimes, he has questioned if what he is doing is for good, or just to protect the royal family. Sometimes, he feels they cross the line. But he will not concede moral high ground to her. She is worse, he thinks. She serves the Guild, a band of mercenaries and assassins.

'But why do you serve the Guild?'

She looks at him, gaze unwavering.

'I know what you are thinking. You think us mercenaries, assassins, killers, robbers, _evil._ We are not. We are fighting for the common people. We steal from the rich, give to the poor. We are fighting the King, not because we hate him or want his throne, but because we are against the very idea of a monarch. We want the people to rule.'

It is Romeo's turn to show his disbelief.

'But that is ridiculous! The people cannot rule, they have no education, no administration or leadership capabilities. They cannot negotiate treaties or levy taxes. They are not capable. They need a monarch, or we would live in anarchy.'

She nods, conceding the point.

'And that is precisely how the ruling class continues to rule. By depriving the common people the abilities to do so.'

'But how can you hope to change that? It's been going as long as anyone has known; you simply cannot expect to change it.'

She shakes her head, firmly.

'We can. It will take many a lifetime, but one day, it will happen. They will learn. The common people will rise, and we will have change.'

'If it will be like you say it will be, then you do not need to fight. The King has already improved the lives of the commoners. He is continuing to do so. Then, he is, if we take what you believe, contributing to his own demise.'

She is silent, speechless. He decides to press his advantage.

'No matter what happens now, the people will rise eventually. They cannot be kept in ignorance forever. Then what do you have to fight for? The people are not capable of ruling yet. I suspect your masters would be more than happy to govern for the time being.'

Juliet remains silent.

'Besides, you _kill_ people.'

'So do you.'

It hits him. Hard. Very, very hard.

He has nothing to fight for either. The people cannot rule yet, they are not ready. They need the King. Eventually, everything will change. But until then, the people will not, and cannot, rise up.

Rather than sit there silently, he picks up the bowl of now-cold stew, and begins to eat. They do not speak again. When they have finished, they silently pick up the dishes and walk to the stream to clean up, before retiring for the night.

* * *

><p>They eat together again the next night. This time, she waits until they have finished their meal before she speaks. He guesses, that she, like him, has spent the better part of the day thinking about what she is about to say.<p>

'I will not fight for my masters. I will fight to improve the lives of the people. I will fight to prepare them for the days coming, be they in my lifetime or long after.'

Romeo nods, accepting her conviction.

'I will not fight for the King or his heirs. I will fight to prevent your masters from taking power. I will fight to prevent another from lengthening the days until the change occurs.'

Juliet nods and takes his hand in hers.

'And I will respect your choice and your cause.'

He replies.

'And I yours.'

They know now, they fight for the same thing. They're just doing it slightly differently, from a slightly different angle.

The next morning, they practice weaponry together.


	5. Act Four

The time passes. He finds himself meeting his man only once a fortnight. The days have shortened and cooled, and snow has begun to fall. They take all meals together now. Training together is a regular occurrence. They do not speak again of their masters and causes. Instead, they tell each other tales of the people, tales of their friends.

Romeo tells her of Benvolio and Mercutio, his two friends from childhood. He tells her of their boyhood misadventures, for they have been together for as long as they can remember. He even tells her of his training, mostly of the early days, of hard work and toil, and perhaps even little tantrums along the way.

Juliet, in return, tells him tales of her own life. How she was raised by a kindly peasant woman, who had lost her own daughter, a little girl called Susan. She tells him of her childhood training, of growing up amongst the people. Of late, she says, she had become more withdrawn into the Guild, and less so among the people.

'Who's Paris?'

She throws a handful of grass at him. She doesn't quite hit him with all of it, it is night and the moon is the only light. That's a definite improvement over the last time he asked, he thinks, fingers brushing the tiny scar on his cheek from the pebble she threw at him.

'He's another member of the Guild, quite high up. Third in command, I would say.'

'Then why do you carry a knife bearing his name?'

He has returned the knife he captured at their fourth encounter.

She swallows, blushing slightly.

'It was a gift.'

He jogs his elbow at her.

'Are you a pair?'

She shakes her head insistently and immediately.

'No, we are not a pair. Though Capulet, our leader, and Tybalt, my teacher, wish it so, as does he. But if I do not wish it, then it cannot be. I am not some weak-livered maiden.'

'That you are not.'

She jogs her elbow right back at him.

'Do you have anyone? Perhaps another Guardian?'

Romeo shakes his head, and tells her of Rosaline, and his friends' teasing. She listens attentively, waiting till he has finished before interrupting him.

'What does she mean to you?'

He gathers his thoughts and his courage.

'Nothing, not now, not after...'

She cuts him off.

'Not after this?'

The moon is full tonight. Just like the night of the masquerade.

She places her hand gently on his cheek, stroking the scar that she left.

'I'm sorry about that. I just lost my temper.'

He smiles at her.

'It's fine. Frankly, I deserved it.'

She leans forward, and suddenly, she's kissing him, and he's kissing her back, and they're both under the moon's spell.

The moment ends, all too soon, and with one last smile, she departs back to her cabin and he to his tent.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Juliet rises much earlier than he, and has already breakfasted when he wakes. She is practicing archery, slamming arrow after arrow into the bullseye of the target they have created. He walks towards her, and stands by her as she empties her quiver.<p>

When she walks forward to retrieve her arrows from the target, he goes with her, and wordlessly begins to pull the arrows from the wood. Finally, he breaks the silence.

'Do you regret what happened last night?'

_I hope not. I don't. But if she does..._

She takes a breath, looking him in the eyes for the first time that morning.

'No, I do not. It's just...'

She trails off.

'Just what?'

'What do we do now? What are we now?'

It is his turn to think. He is not so sure. She continues her questions.

'Are we a pair? I do not think we are. We are too apart, I think. A pair must be accepted by society to be a pair. We are not, we will never be.'

He finds the words. He doesn't know how, but he does.

'Then we are one and one. We are not a pair, but we are one and one together. We are two, then. Not one singular group, but two, two working and living in harmony.'

She smiles and takes his hand.

'I can live with that.'

He smiles back; words are not for this time. They enjoy the moment a little longer, and then she breaks it. Looking around at the snow that seems to permanently cover the ground now, she speaks.

'It's too cold for you to camp outside now. We should both stay in the cabin now.'

That night, he moves his few belongings into the cabin they will now share.


	6. Act Five

The time passes. The snow melts. They are happy, so very happy, happier than they have ever been in their lives. For once, they are not Guardians or Guild assassins, they are not warriors or spies or guards, they are just two people, two people in love, building a life together. They are ecstatic. Of course, they still do weapons training; they do not allow their skills to drop. But it is a different sort to the boring target training they once did. They put their skills to use, hunting game and scavenging for food. They have contests, friendly ones of course, shooting apples and tree knots and goodness knows what else.

They know now why neither shot to kill, in all the times they encountered one another. They know now, and it is not spoken of. It is that strange connection they both felt, the strange attraction, fascination. It is no longer a loose end, needed to be tied up. It is a tied thread, woven and intertwined like their lives.

But joy like this does not last. They cannot ignore the outside world, as much as they would like. Romeo only visits the place set with his man once a month now. But the world is something they cannot ignore, it will not allow it. Outside of this clearing, this forest, they are enemies. Nothing created here can last out there.

As spring arrives well and truly, he finds her, sitting by the waterfall, the one where she'd pinned him to a tree. He has discovered that it is only an hour's ride from the clearing, though it had taken him four days to track her there previously, she had led him on a long, circuitous route. Juliet's just sitting there, her hand trailing through the pool at the waterfall's feet. He sits wordlessly beside her.

She turns at his presence and draws her hand out of the water, taking his, and placing it with hers into the cool waters. She begins to speak, quietly, hesitantly, not like her usual self.

'Have you ever thought, about just...running away?'

They sit there in silence for a moment. He broaches it first.

'You mean, deserting our causes, our masters, our duties?'

She takes a deep breath.

'Yes. Would you?'

He looks into her eyes, in all seriousness.

'I would, I would do it for you, if that is what you want.'

'But would you do it just for yourself? Just to be free of the pressures, the duties?'

He takes a deep breath. She will surely hate him for this.

'No. I wouldn't. I'm so sorry, but I can't. I cannot leave everything I was raised for, not just for myself; there is only one thing that would make me. I will only leave if you want me to.'

She nods.

'I would do the same in your place. I won't ask you to run away with me, I know it will be too hard for you to do so, as it would be for me.'

'I shall not ask you to flee with me, then. But we are trapped, you know. We have no choice.'

She smiles, wanly, but all the same, a smile is a smile.

'We make the most of what time we have then.'

* * *

><p>The days become warm, and spring begins to draw to a close. The summer is coming. Romeo returns from retrieving the news from his man. At the same time, Juliet receives a rare letter by pigeon.<p>

He returns to the clearing. He opens the letter when he arrives, thinking it unimportant, not bothering to read it just yet. She has already opened hers, and tears are flowing down her cheeks. He discards the letter, it is forgotten, and rushes to comfort her. She urges him to read the letter she clutches in her hands.

The letter has the now-familiar pattern, the one on her mask, the one on her knife, on it. As he skims through it, searching for the cause of her sorrows, he barely notices it is from Paris.

Then he finds it.

_Tybalt's dead. Killed by a Guardian._

No wonder she cries. Tybalt was her friend, her mentor, her teacher. She cared deeply for him, like he was kin, like a brother. He reads his letter. He has a terrible feeling about what it contains.

It is from Benvolio, but that barely registers. Mercutio is dead.

_No, it can't be, not Mercutio! Not my fun-loving, carefree, joker of a friend! No!_

Mercutio is dead, slain by a Guild assassin, protecting the king. He puts two and two together, and he knows now.

Tybalt and Mercutio slew each other. Her teacher and his friend. A Guild assassin and a Guardian. Polar opposites. They have both lost someone now.

He cannot do much, as the tears threaten to fall from his eyes. He holds her tight, two bodies wracking with sobs. They cry together, sharing their pains. He cries for Mercutio, she cries for Tybalt, he cries for her pain, and she cries for his.

When they have calmed slightly and regained a semblance of control, they read the letters together, closely, searching hungrily, morbidly, for any details they can glean.

What they find does not comfort them in the slightest.

Tybalt is a great swordsman. Mercutio is less so. Mercutio, dying, took Tybalt with him by a trick. A trick that Romeo taught him.

He is, indirectly, the killer of her mentor, brother, teacher, friend. He has to tell her, so he does. She cries more. He begins to apologize. She stops him.

'Don't. It's not your fault.'

He opens his mouth to mention her tears. She cuts him off.

'I'm crying because I feel so horrible, so sad, that we must kill each other's friends and companions. That we must, indirectly or directly, be enemies, when there is so little difference in our causes.'

She takes a breath and wipes away the tears, then begins to speak again.

'We'll forget about this. Tomorrow, this hasn't happened, and the outside world does not exist. Tomorrow, we go back to how yesterday was.'

He nods. He does not mention it again.

But now he knows, they both know, how little time they have left. He notices, for the first time, how warm it is getting, how long the days have become. He wishes time would stop.


	7. Epilogue

The day of the summer solstice dawns. Bright and early, Romeo sets out to his meeting place, to remove all traces of his presence. He has told her that he must return to his masters now, they had sent a message to his man when he last saw him, and his man had told him he must leave on the summer solstice to return to his masters. They consider his exile over.

This is only the second lie he has told her.

When he leaves, Juliet enters the cabin. His things are all packed and gathered. When he returns, they will share an early dinner, before he departs, taking advantage of the late sunset.

Except she knows that he will never leave this clearing, for she has orders too. She has orders to spy on him, gain his trust, and kill him. This must be done by the summer solstice's end. Today is the last day.

She'd lied the first time they'd met. She will not lie to him again. Poison takes time to act; she will have time to explain why. He won't seek an antidote. He won't try to kill her, not in cold blood. She knows he can't bring himself to. She can't bring herself to kill him, either. That is why she chooses poison. He will understand. They both know they have no way out. They both know the only way forward, the only way to be together.

As the sun passes the overhead mark, she begins to prepare an evening meal. Hands shaking, she pours poison into the soup she has made. Neither of them will ever leave this clearing. She will do her duty. But she will not leave him. She will not betray him.

* * *

><p>As Romeo approaches the clearing, he finds himself thinking, of all things, about how he will do it. About how he will kill her. Will he shoot her from afar; pierce her heart with an arrow? She will almost certainly know who did it, but at least he won't have to look her in the eye as she dies. No, he thinks. He wants to be with her for that time. Will he engage her in a surprise ambush, a duel with swords? It is the most honourable thing to do, though an ambush is not honourable. If he were to challenge her to a duel, she may well win, and he would fail his duty. Or perhaps...Yes, that is what he will do. It is ironically appropriate, after all.<p>

He has now reached the clearing. He approaches her; she is kneeling down, ladling soup into two bowls. She rises to greet him. Her tears wet his collar as she embraces him. She whispers into his ear.

'The next time we meet, it shall be as enemies.'

He whispers back.

'Yes.'

Juliet feels the prick of a dagger at her back. She looks up at him, eyes sad and teary, but accepting and resolute. She doesn't fight back, instead reaching up to kiss him one last time. He gathers his courage, and follows through with the act.

_I'm sorry, please, forgive me._

Her blood soaks his clothes and hers. He speaks, saying goodbye, apologizing, holding her hand tight, comforting her.

'I'm sorry. But, as we both know, duty comes first. I should tell you, though, I only lied twice. The first time, it was on that cliff edge, when I told you my masters no longer trusted me. The second was when I said I would return to my masters, as they have recalled me. This has been my mission all along.'

She gathers her last breaths, to speak her last words.

'And mine too. Kill you, by summer solstice night.'

He masks his slight surprise. She draws the final breath.

'I love you.'

He nods. Tears are falling freely now.

'I love you too.'

Juliet smiles, draws her last breath, and dies in his arms.

He smooths over the tendrils of her hair that have come loose. There is a letter tucked into her belt: an explanation of everything she has done. An explanation for him. Her dilemma, her orders, identical to his. He feels no regret for his actions now.

Glancing at the soup she has prepared, he notices the little bottle beside it. He sniffs the remains, and he believes it is poison. He glances at her letter, and reads the final words. She'd intended to kill him by way of poison in soup. Ironic. The first time they'd met...

Romeo gulps down a bowl of the soup. It seems a shame to waste it. It is delicious. As the sun sets on the summer solstice, he falls across Juliet's body and his heart stops, a letter in his hand.

_We are not so different after all. We are so alike. We will never be parted. We will be together forever. Nobody, no war, no king, no masters, will ever pull us apart. The stars have fated what they have, and we cannot fight them. Because this has been our fate, since the first time we met..._

* * *

><p>AN: That's a wrap!<p>

This story was the first in a series of three unrelated stories that I wrote based on moral/philosophical/social/ethical questions or issues, in an attempt to give deeper meaning to my writing.

How do you think that went?

The second of these stories will be posted on Fictionpress today under the title of 'A Captain and Their Ship.'

Thanks for reading,

~TheGirlWhoRemembers


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